For each of the last three Fridays, I have gone up on the Markagunt to cut firewood. Today was the first trip where I did not have to spend my time digging someone else's vehicle out of the snow. We had several deep snowfalls in southern Utah around Thanksgiving and the forest roads are, of course, unplowed. On the first trip, my friend Martin and I spent probably ninety minutes helping a guy keep his Dodge from slipping off the road and down through the woods. On my second trip, I dug out a guy from Tuscon driving a Volvo. He was talkative and told me, "Dude, I'd have been OK. I've got my survival gear." I thought to myself, "Dude, if you carried a shovel, you wouldn't need survival gear." (My brother-in-law subsequently commented that our conversation reminded him of that famous line from THE GOOD, THE BAD, and THE UGLY: You see, in this world there's two kinds of people, my friend . . . those with shovels, and those who deploy survival gear.) In any case, the only person I had to help today was myself. Just the way I like it.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Third Time's the Charm
For each of the last three Fridays, I have gone up on the Markagunt to cut firewood. Today was the first trip where I did not have to spend my time digging someone else's vehicle out of the snow. We had several deep snowfalls in southern Utah around Thanksgiving and the forest roads are, of course, unplowed. On the first trip, my friend Martin and I spent probably ninety minutes helping a guy keep his Dodge from slipping off the road and down through the woods. On my second trip, I dug out a guy from Tuscon driving a Volvo. He was talkative and told me, "Dude, I'd have been OK. I've got my survival gear." I thought to myself, "Dude, if you carried a shovel, you wouldn't need survival gear." (My brother-in-law subsequently commented that our conversation reminded him of that famous line from THE GOOD, THE BAD, and THE UGLY: You see, in this world there's two kinds of people, my friend . . . those with shovels, and those who deploy survival gear.) In any case, the only person I had to help today was myself. Just the way I like it.
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Been wondering where you were. Glad to see you back at the blog. Looking forward to more photos, just make sure they display larger than postage stamps. It's hard to appreciate fine art when I need my readers to view it.
ReplyDeleteYou oughta write the forest ranger a letter about those unplowed forest roads.
I feel the same way about the pics: great but too small! I want a higher resolution version!
ReplyDeleteNo posts for 4 months and then 3 posts in 3 days. I'm getting exhausted keeping up.
I thought the blog readership here was interested in the quality of the prose, but all I hear is BIGGER pictures.
ReplyDeleteSorry to overwhelm, Jess, but there is a bit of a backlog right now.
If you took crappy pictures, I wouldn't care about them. But you don't.
ReplyDeleteI'm a Nebraska native and did my LDS mission there, too. Spent lots of time observing and living the "rural ways" lifestyle. I lived in the Midwest on a farm or small town (< 5,000 people) for 10 years. Jen and I were actually talking about this Sunday as we drove through the southern part of Utah County (the least inhabited part of the three valleys along the Wasatch Front) and I was bemoaning the fact that we'd never get to live in the country given my job and career path.